


Oasis

by lorielen (culuyetille)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Malfoycest (Harry Potter), POV Alternating, underage sex.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-20
Updated: 2003-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28878558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/culuyetille/pseuds/lorielen
Summary: A moment of sanity among hurt, shattered numbness and Malfoys.
Relationships: Draco/Lucius
Kudos: 1





	Oasis

Fifteen-year-old Draco Malfoy looked like a marble-carved, beautifully androgyn glimpse of the Greek god of Love in his sleep. His breathing was even and silent, and the limp abandon of his limbs wasn't but graceful. His pale beauty glittered in the dark room in a screaming contrast with the snoring figures of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, who laid asleep atop their beds on either side of the Malfoy Heir's own.

Severus Snape thought none of those fitting adjectives to Draco's natural grace as he strode across the room, coming to a halt to loom darkly at the boy's bedside and reaching out with a red-stained, ghostly hand to touch the boy's shoulder.

Others would have thought endearing the small murmur that Draco let out as he curled up, obviously intent on sleeping through the poking, but Severus was in a hurried and preoccupied state of soul.

"Mr. Malfoy." A whisper that wasn't but a low hiss. He was rewarded with the lazy sliding of semi-transparent eyelids to reveal shiny silver. "Your Father calls for you."

As expected, the mere mention of Lucius got a ready response from his son. The boy sat up, the sheets caressing his naked torso as they sled down to puddle at his lap.

"Hmmm...?" A half-yawn stole Draco's voice and eloquence.

However, upon making out the worry lines that marked his teacher's face, Draco's own eyes sparkled as he got to his feet.

"My quarters."

Severus didn't say the words as much as he breathed them, and all too fast he left in a swirl of grey, Death Eatering robes.

Draco never spotted the drying blood imprints on his left shoulder as he followed the older man, biting at his bottom lip nervously, heart suddenly gone from sleep's lazy rhythm to a quick pace that sent jolts of anxiety throughout his lithe body.

His nipples hardened against the early hours' chill, and the tips of his fingers tingled, yearning to touch alabaster skin. His eyes shone with craving, the stabbing of his wounded heart had begun anew, started by an offering of a forbidden good that he thought he'd have to do without during the excruciating length of the school year.

Draco's racing heart skipped a painful beat at the sight of his Father, sprawled on top of Snape's bed. Red marked his forehead and streamed down to stain his previously pristine platinum mane.

As Snape, Lucius too wore greyish robes; differently, though, his Mark stood for his Lord and Beliefs. His devotion to his choice side on that War was every inch as heartfelt as Snape's own helpfulness to heal his injuries.

Pain, friendship, loyalty and all his other inner demons aside, Lucius found an earnest smile creeping up the corners of his lips at the sight of his son. It was an unexpected and much welcome bliss, among the chaos that his life-consuming game had been, of late.  
And it seemed that Draco, once again, was his rock to hold on while trying not to let life eat his sanity and soul.

"Stay with your Father, Draco, while I go fetch a remedy for the bone and flesh injuries of his inconsequent Malfoy self."

Severus' tone was sharp and, oh joy and amusement of both Malfoys, slightly concerned.

Draco just nodded, and didn't look away from his Professor until the man left, closing the door silently behind himself, his spidery fingers shining in Draco's retina for just an extra moment longer than they had actually been there. He then turned to the side to focus his gaze on Lucius, and, quietly, he walked up to where the older man lay, lips a thin line of whitish worry, similar to the one on his forehead.

He had yet to decide what hurt the more: if it was the blood, stiffness of movement and hidden pain grimacing in his father's manners, or the man's warm smile.  
Whatever it was, icy needles impaled his soul.

The sight of the man had burst the thin sewing that Draco had carefully done to the aching slashed inside his chest; now Lucius' face burned new in his mind's eye with painfully bright colours. Equal to that and mingled among the different sorts of thorns that mauled Draco's soul was his increasing worry about the rising frequency of his father's night, grey-clad appointments. He now knew that he would not be able to try and hug himself and lull himself asleep with whispers that his Father was fine and safe.

Yet, he couldn't turn away from the frightening and alluring figure of bloodied Lucius on the bed, close enough to touch.

"It is nothing, really. Twisted knee and a handful of nasty curses. But Severus thought it better that I didn't go straight home bruised and in my Grey garb. He says he's heard they're watching the Manor. Now, I'm not sure whether or not to put that down to his considerable paranoia."

"Hogwarts' chilly dungeons are an irrefutable offer, if nothing else."

Draco offered, his voice light and his features clouded with obvious worry.

"Exactly, Draco."

The name rolled naturally on his tongue, evoking echoes of whispers and moans and screams and soft, lonely whimpering of that exact same word in a flash of bright darkness in Draco's eyes.

"Now, how's Prefectorship going?"

Draco's aristocratic fingertips felt at the linen mattress of Severus' bed tentatively, inches away from his father's shoulder. He could feel the body heat engulf him, and all of a sudden was too aware of his half-naked state as he approached Lucius.

"Haven't you been getting my letters?" His tone was calm and quiet.

"Haven't you been getting my replies? But there are some things, son," Lucius' eyes twinkled in a fatherly and yet mischievous manner, "parchment and ink do a poor job of portraying."

Silence weighted on the pair as Draco sat on his heels by the bed, looking directly inside his Father's eyes.

Lucius slid the tip of his tongue to lick at his upper lip before speaking.

"How's abstinence working out for you?"

Draco felt the blood leave his face, the Malfoy version of blushing, but he didn't allow himself to fidget. He had more of a spine than that. Instead, he held Lucius' faintly amused gaze, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards when he found the tiniest bit of concern disguised in his Father's voice, along with clouds of what Draco knew by self-experience to be the sort of longing that the older Malfoy would dedicate to him, and him alone.

He knew perfectly well what Lucius was doing, and what he wanted to hear.

He adjusted his Father's hair, pushing the strands behind his ear and paying an exaggerate amount of attention to the deed.

Long, ever-manicured fingers wrapped around his slim wrist. He looked down to meet Lucius' Enquiring Gaze and a raised eyebrow.

"You're marking me." He pointed out softly.

Lucius loosened his grip, seeming to realise only then that his knuckles had turned white with the strength he had put into it. He turned his face to the side, facing Draco's chest, blank facade slipping back in place.

"I'm sorry." He murmured absent-mindedly.

"Don't be. You know I hardly mind."

The voice was that much closer now, and the man turned his gaze to see his son's face inches away from his own, for Draco had kneeled down by his bedside and rested his pointy chin on the pillow. Lucius could smell his breath, tingling, fresh and with a shadow of sweetness to it. It ensnared his senses, poking at the yearnings he fought nightly to keep dormant.  
Draco's gaze on him was so intense that it felt as though he was being skinned; the silvery eyes huge and yet never enough to withhold the turbulent emotions that the pair shared.

Silence was thick, heavy and uncomfortable, as it should never be between them.

"What are you doing, Draco?"

"Adjusting your hair."

Lucius flinched away from the hands immediately, reflexively. "Why?"

"So that I don't have to keep looking at bruised you."

The older male sighed in a tired fashion.

"You mutilate yourself, Draco. You could be enjoying this." His tone was almost bitter.

"Are you?"

"Not anymore."

"Can I make you enjoy it again?"

Why in fuck's name didn't the boy ever ask what he wanted to know. Lucius felt the strangest urge to growl threateningly.

"I guess so, if you'd care to." Grumpy always worked.

Warm breath tickled his eyelids, and there was the softest brush of lips against the thin layer of flesh. Then it was the bridge of his nose, his hairline. Tender licking at the small cut to his forehead, slender fingers curling and massaging Lucius' scalp.

The elder Malfoy's voice came low, affectionate and firm.

"Talk to me, Draco."

His fingers kissed the boy's high, pretty cheekbones, until his hand was captured between Draco's slenderer ones.

"Should I expand on how much I love you?"

The tone was mellow, with a tinge of mockery on the discreet curling down of one corner of the boy's mouth. However, the intensity of his feelings cascaded steadily on his gaze and his forcefully controlled breathing.

Lucius smiled openly, throttling over the hint of offended challenge on his son's question.

"That would be lovely."

Draco chuckled, low and weakly, and all of a sudden he was languid against his Father's touch, pressing the man's hand against his cheek, eyes and body telling it all.  
Lucius adored the part of it that only to him was given the privilege of melting his son's wards.

"I miss you..."

A breathed whisper, a strangled confession, and Lucius' heart was dancing. He just nodded, fingers buried in the fine smoothness of Draco's hair.

"Hey." He delicately turned Draco's chin so that the boy was looking at him. "You and your Mother were all that kept me going, once. And even if I'm to get an earful for screwing up with my little display of Malfoy boldness, which Severus refers to as brainless imprudence, and I AM getting punished, because that rat Notts is so sure to tell on me-" he noticed that Draco's eyes were fixed somewhere to his right, and pressed fingertips against his son's chin, demanding his attention. "I'm glad I got to see you, Draco."

The youth became shimmering with contentment, and Lucius couldn't resist trailing down the slim neck with his fingers, letting his touch linger at the collarbone just a little.

He smirked in an unholy knowing way when Draco shivered, his pinkish nipples hardening as if reaching out in need of more contact. But soon enough that was gone, replaced by the shadow cast by the lizard-like wings of Draco's demons.

"I worry about you."

Seriousness made Draco's eyes glassy, and he looked so much older than he should, naked slim bony shoulders tense. Lucius noticed that his son's hair was uncut, and that in the weak light his eyes were bright and big, making of him a scary ragdoll. The lower lip was reddish, bruised, harassed daily by Draco's struggle against his own haunted soul.

Lucius wanted to kiss it all away, but he knew better than to say it'd be alright. Instead he smiled his winning smile, preparing to reposition his son's walls, gathering from the inside the strength needed to willingly push Draco from his beautiful daring vulnerability back into his inexpressive, safe steeliness.

"So do I. You're too thin. Have you been eating correctly?"

Lucius' eyes were careful in their scrutinising of his son, leaving nothing out, and suddenly Draco wished he was wearing one more layer of cloth over his body.  
Or one less.

He nodded, blond strands moving harmoniously.

"Of course, Father."

His lack of appetite had turned chronic and even Pansy Parkinson had come to him about it. Draco simply supposed it had to do with the trouble he was having to sleep, and in his heart he knew that a visit of his injured Father wouldn't help his nervous state any.

Sod his nervous state in favour of those warm eyes on him.

"Dumbledore's too soft on the Elves for them to cook properly, then, I guess."

"I'm just Malfoy slim. Everyone's favourite." A bright grin as Draco let himself stream back in shape.

"My personal favourite, indeed." He purred, his face close to his son's.

The movement of his fingertips in the boy's scalp had become rhythmic, circular and slow. His mind was frantically trying to find a good reason why he should not kiss Draco's injured lips and make it all a little better. Perhaps because once he had left, a memory of a stolen and craved intimacy would make it that much worse for both parts.

Fortunately for both Malfoys, Severus Snape was in the mood to save the day. So it was that the door flung open to reveal the Potions Master's dark-clothed and impressive figure.

Draco stood immediately, messy hair framing the unreachable expression in his face.

Lucius' hand was lifted along, fingers stubbornly refusing to leave Draco. He winced as he brought the arm to rest by his side.

None of them spoke to each other as Draco efficiently aided Severus in the healing. His face was determined and awake, but something smoother and more tender flickered in his eyes whenever it became obvious that Lucius was in pain.

He helped his Father get on his feet and put an arm around the shoulders of literally supportive Severus, ready to be Flooed home, and did not flinch when the older Malfoy reached to wipe the dry blood from his shoulder.

"Good night, Father, Professor."

"Good night, Draco. And stop biting at your lower lip."

"Yes, Father." Pause, and licking of the said lip. "There'll be a Quidditch match two weeks from now." Expressive batting of eyelashes.

"Gryffindor versus Slytherin." Severus informed, surprisingly not annoyed at the extended farewells.

"Will I see you beat the annoying Gryffindors?"

"Only if you show up."

"Fair enough."

A smile, reciprocated.

"Good night, Father. Tell Mother I send my love. And take care."

A burst of cinder and green and they were gone; the ghost of Lucius' blown kiss tickling at his son's cheek.

Bare-footed, Draco made his way back to bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Someone mentioned that the change of POV wasn't too easy to spot... if you had this problem, I'm sorry, but I meant for it to be that way. Mainly because I personally find Draco and Lucius hard to part, and also because they build the feelings, situations and reactions together.


End file.
